Blog

12/23/14 (Rosh Chodesh Tevet)

Barry Wiseman and Eleanor Rigby

Tomorrow morning will be Barry Wiseman's funeral. We only knew Barry over the last several years of his life, which were years of disability and struggle, mourning and loss. But these were years in which Barry was neither lonely nor lost. They were the years during which he developed the most enduring friendships of his life. They were his B'nai David years.

Barry would spend hours researching your ancestry and creating a folder of the results. He would share with you all kinds of interesting information about world history, Jewish history, and - his favorite subject - Hollywood, until you politely mentioned that you needed to go. He would inquire constantly about the welfare of your family members, and produce small, sometimes quirky gifts, that were specifically selected with particular family members in mind. He would sit and learn Midrash with you on Tuesday morning, offering any and every insight he could muster.

Remember Eleanor Rigby? Barry could have been Eleanor Rigby. Ignored, excluded, left utterly alone. He didn't fit into any of the typical boxes, and to be candid, fell into several atypical ones. But at B'nai David he had deep, strong friends. Not huge numbers of friends, but enough to keep him in his apartment though his disability checks were less than his rent, enough to help him smooth many of life's small bumps, enough so that he laughed a lot despite his pain, enough so that after his stroke he had incredible medical advocacy, a constant stream of visitors, and even a birthday party at his bedside just two weeks ago. Enough so that he had a friend sitting and saying Tehillim beside his deathbed until the men from Sholom Mortuary came to pick him up.

Many of these friends were his daily minyan friends. Barry was almost always one of the first ten, and took on the job of announcing "yesh minyan" when the tenth man walked in. This is part of the magic of daily minyan. Part of the mystique and majesty of daily minyan.

If you didn't know Barry personally, here's a suggestion. Keep your eyes and ears and heart open for the next Barry who will come in. Or who is already here. And be one of the enduring friends.

PS - We thank Moe Goldsman of Sholom Mortuaries and Steve Otten and Nathan Samuels of Eden Memorial Park who provided services for Barry at no cost. And felt honored to be doing so.

Rav Yosef

Sheldon’s eulogy:

Although on Chanukah we don’t eulogize, I think that Barry was possibly the nicest person that I ever met. He loved people and truly cared about everyone that he met. I first met him when he started coming to daily minyan a little over six years ago. Every morning when I walked into davening he would greet me with a warm smile and share some anecdote, whether about the news or his life. He once told me that smiling and saying hello did not cost anything and he was right. While the last few years of Barry’s life were certainly very difficult, you would not have known from his outward persona, as he was always so friendly and positive.

He was generous far beyond his means. I was the recipient of some of the small gifts that Rav Yosef mentioned in his e-mail yesterday. I told him there was no need for him to give me anything but he wouldn’t listen. I think that Barry got his greatest pleasure in giving gifts to people. One year he got a number of Chanukah music CDs. He gave them as presents to the daily minyan regulars. You could tell that he was so happy being able to give something to his friends at Bnai David.

I will always remember how proud he was to be a member of the Screen Actors Guild. He loved “Hollywood” and would always tell stories about the movies and shows he worked on and the performers he worked with. Next to making sure that he paid his rent, Barry was most concerned with making certain that his SAG dues were paid and his SAG membership remained in good standing.

Even after his stroke, his demeanor towards people did not change. He loved visitors and phone calls and was so appreciative when people would take the time to check in on him. The last time we spoke was this past Friday. Our phone conversation ended like all of our others with me saying that I needed to go and would speak with him later and Barry saying “Ok buddy, thanks for the call, I appreciate it.”

I learned much from Barry and will miss him a great deal. As a Kohen, I must say that I generally don’t mind not being able to go to funerals. My friends joke with me that “membership has its privileges.” However, this is one instance in which I don’t feel so privileged, as I wish I could be saying good bye to Barry one last time.